The Hangover
by JotunVali
Summary: Based after seeing the 7th episode of the Alienist series. After he'd been beaten up in a dark alley, John Moore doesn't go back home. He wakes up in a hospital to see the only one person he doesn't want to see.
1. Chapter 1

"Ah yes. Our 'mutual handsome and indolent friend'!" Laszlo sneered.

"Is that what you think of me?" John dreadfully asked, so terrified of the answer his breath was suddenly cut off.

"No, that's what Sara thinks of you. And that's all you'll ever be to her!"

"Be careful, Laszlo. Or you'll die an old lonely man."

That's how his short evening with Laszlo had ended. The stubborn alienist had vehemently refused to tell what he had done to Sara and barely implied the illustrator was nothing to him. Again.

Why was John still helping or even hanging out with someone who keeps calling him 'useless' and keeps reminding him of his alcoholism? Because of their criminal investigation, yes. Everyone, even the head of the police relied on Laszlo's remarkable brain to catch the children killer. This monster had to be caught, no matter what, not even John's life or sanity. But God! Sometimes, John wondered why was he friend with such a cold man. It's like the alienist suddenly lost all capacity of diplomacy and compassion as soon as he wasn't with children. Was he even nice with all children? John wondered.

What time was it anyway? It was already night. He needed a drink. A strong drink. He had tried to stop and switch for the cigarette but… the hell with sobriety! Every time he argued with Laszlo –more than half of the time, that is, he felt like only a good pure whisky could relieve him. What's more, he had an urge to punch everything right now. Laszlo more than anyone else. But as he was barely capable of fighting, the cross illustrator decided to take his whisky in a speakeasy where wrestling and betting is still legal. Watching instead of acting will be quite enough to him.

* * *

Uh? What? Where was he? And… what was that horrible throbbing pain in his left eye? The hangover headache was here too but he was used to it. John tried to flutter his eyelids open. It was all gray. Women all dressed in white. A hospital? What… what was he… how had he come here? Who brought him here? Why? His thoughts were brutally interrupted by the sight of the last person he wanted to see.

"Ugh! You." John bitterly sighed.

"I'm glad to see you're still living." Laszlo enunciated.

"Please, tonight was terrible enough to me."

"You're welcome."

"I'm sorry?"

"Your gran struggled to overcome her fear of telephones to inform me you were here. Some good soul found you beaten up in a dark alley early this morning."

"And of course, that good soul wasn't you." John assumed.

"No, it wasn't."

"Then where does this cocky 'you're welcome' come from?" The hurt illustrator spat out.

"Well as you see, I've put my work on hold to check on you." The alienist explained.

"Pardon me not to kiss your boots, your Majesty. I was convinced I was nothing to you." John grumbled, avoiding Laszlo's insisting stare.

"What are you talking about?"

"Please, you think I'm nothing but a burden. I'm useless, my theories are always stupid, no matter if I almost die to get them, I'm such a loser I drink and sleep with anyone, I'll never find love anyway, my drawings are never good… I'm just good enough to look handsome and be your personal messenger."

"If you say so." Laszlo faintly shrugged his shoulders.

"I just say what you're thinking of me!" The frustrated reporter lost his patience.

"And it's not what _**you**_ think about you?" The proud doctor retorted.

"So I am right. Maybe I'd have said 'thank you' if you hadn't come at all." John grumbled before he turned his back, ruffling through his bed sheets.

"So that's it? I come all the way here, delaying my work and the investigation and that's all you have to tell me?" Laszlo got on his high horses.

"I've never asked you to come!" His fed up friend almost screamed, looking back at him. "If your work is so important then bugger off and leave me to die. I'm sure that's what you secretly want."

"I secretly want you to die?" The alienist frowned his eyebrows.

 _That rather is the total opposite._

"If not caring about someone - a friend!- who puts his life in danger to bring you clues, never thanking him, calling him useless, constantly reminding him his worst memories and mocking his tendency to drink is not wanting him to die, then what is it?" John ranted.

"John, I needed to know about your and everyone else's worst feelings for the investigation! To catch our murderer! You know that!" Laszlo claimed.

"Yeah, cause everyone is a potential murderer except you."

"I'm no exception."

"Of course. Since you want me to die." The miserable reporter whined.

Laszlo sighed out of annoyance.

"Since you hurt Sara. You still won't tell me what you did to her?"

"You can ask her. I'm afraid I'm not proud enough of what I did to say it." The doctor simply told.

"Sorry if I don't cry over your fate." John scowled.

An awkward and heavy silent fell in the bedroom.

"You really think I don't care about you?" Laszlo couldn't help asking.

"Why shouldn't I?"

"Indeed. Why shouldn't you?" The alienist agreed before he left the room.

He was about to go for the hospital's exit when he froze on the spot. He angrily huffed out.

He really was the champion of it, right? The champion of hurting his friends, then hurting them even more hoping they'll go away and so won't be hurt again. Why were they so stubborn? Especially John. Why was he still so benevolent, so kind, so willful to stick by Laszlo's side? Although the doctor had made everything to brush –well, rather punch- him away? John was too fragile and too carefree to keep on investigating on a children murderer! Or just to keep hanging out with him! Being by Laszlo's side meant constantly putting his life in danger! The black-eyed illustrator just had said so. The alienist feared for John's life because of his incapacity of self-defense and of distrusting strangers yet he also used this disadvantage to demoralize and chase him away. In vain. It just resulted in hurting him even more; strangely without getting him out.

What was Laszlo going to do, apologize? John would never believe him! It was easy with Cyrus, Mary and Stevie. Laszlo had never hit or abuse or talk down on them. They fully trusted and loved him. But with Sara and especially John? It was more impossible than to catch that invisible killer. Yet, his feet wouldn't go any further and his brain warned him that if he walked away, it'd be the last time he or anyone else would see John.

How many times did John have a hangover now? How worse had it already gotten? How many times had he got beaten up? How many times would John ruin his health and sanity before the worst happen? Would he even be currently in a bed and not in a coffin if no one had found him last night? How stupid Laszlo would have looked if John had been found dead a few hours after their argument?

The doctor slowly breathed in and out. Maybe John was right. Maybe, **surely** he'd die alone. So be it. It'd be safer for everyone he cared about. If only no one cared about _**him**_.

"Why do you push away those who care about you?" John once asked him.

"The question is not why I push you away, but why are you staying?" He'd replied.

Surely that was the most sincere thing Laszlo had ever said to John in a long time. He turned around and walked back to the bedroom.

 _You're not happy or safe with me, so why don't you go away? Must I kill you myself to be sure of it?_

"Oh, won't you give me a break? I thought I could finally rest! Oh I get it. You didn't roast me enough today, is that it? You crave it like I crave booze?" John complained.

"John… I am sorry… if I ever… made you feel bad." Laszlo tried.

" _ **If**_?" John bitterly chuckled. "Ah! Even now, your nerve is still the biggest huh?"

"Well then, sorry… for **having** made you feel bad." Laszlo modified his sentence.

"I'm in a hospital bed, after some corrupted jerk beat and almost shot my brains out, after I've tried to drown my problems down like I never did before, while I thought for once I could sober up… all this amongst a sordid case of a bloodthirsty children killer and I just feel _'bad'_? You really see nothing beyond your own nose, do you?"

 _See? You don't believe me. Why do I bother apologizing? Why do you bother being friends with me?_ The trying to be nice doctor thought.

"Do you even know why I drink my ass off?" The reporter asked out of the blue.

"To forget Julia."

"She's why I've _**started**_ to drink. Do you know why I keep on doing it?"

"I don't follow you, John." Laszlo sincerely answered.

"Ha. Maybe you should do it more often then. Wouldn't it be nice to switch places from time to time?" John sniggered.

"Get to the point, please."

"Oh come on! You keep gratuitously talking down on me, seeing me as a mere tool for your work, and as I was beginning to sober up I suddenly dive back into the whisky jar? Like last night? As if by pure chance?"

"What do you-?" Laszlo began to ask before he painfully realized.


	2. Chapter 2

Was the cause of John's severe alcoholism… him? Oh no. That was way worse than he'd have ever theorized about. His best friend was alcoholic and had been almost killed in a dark god-forsaken street… because of him. Because of his poor attempts to 'protect' him. What kind of apology could erase that off?

It really wasn't in his habits, he quite loathed the act frankly; but he felt the strange urge to do it right here right now. He couldn't figure out anything else.

"Laszlo? What… what are doing? What on Earth are you doing?"

What the hell? Was John still sleeping –or drunk as fuck- and making the weirdest dream ever? Laszlo was… hugging him? Quite gently, even.

The alienist had closed, or rather squeezed shut his eyes. Not to see what he was doing. Somehow it felt uncomfortable. And… wrong. As if an awkward hug could be enough to change John's mind about his cruel behavior towards him.

"John… I am… truly… sorry. _Es tut mir Leid."_ The upset doctor whispered.

It sounded so… surreal to John Moore. Laszlo being nice with him… and above all apologizing to him! He was dead or drunk on the pavement, that's for sure!

"Are you… are you feeling alright Laszlo?" He enquired, actually alarmed.

"Not at all. That would explain this weird gesture of mine."

"It's not… 'weird'. Just… kind."

The alienist snorted.

"That's not one of my characteristics. You know that better than anyone else."

"Oh, self-pity now?" John giggled. "I believe that's one of _**my**_ characteristics." He smiled.

Laszlo snorted even more; which made his huggable friend nervously laugh. Soon John noticed a change in Laszlo's own laugh. It was turning into a more… strangled sound. Was he…? No! John had never seen him… It just was possible for everyone EXCEPT Laszlo!

"Laszlo… are you… are you crying?"

He didn't get an answer at once.

"There is just… so much dust in the air…" His friend whispered against his neck.

"The window is open…" The bedridden reporter reminded to a once more mute doctor.

The room was in complete silence except for Laszlo's muffled whimpers and the springtime fresh breeze from outdoors.

God, his best friend was almost killed last night! After having binge-drunk like a sun-dried fish! A few moments after their stupid argument! John had almost died because of him! Because of this thick, stubborn brain of the alienist's! He had always intended to protect him with his scathing roasting but it had led to the total awful opposite! He hugged the puzzled illustrator tighter.

"I am so… so sorry John." He repeated as for the first time of his life, he didn't know what to add. "You're… you're important to me… not just… for our case… you're… personally important to me… as a… friend I mean…" He stammered. "You mean… a lot to me. I guess… I didn't show it… often enough…"

"Hey, hey it's ok. I'm not dead." The reporter now really felt awkward.

"But you could have been!" Laszlo curtly screamed, staring back at John. "You could have been… shot dead last night, figuratively and literally! Because of me! Because of my crappy behavior to you! Do you really think I'd be happy if you died? No, I wouldn't! I'd be the most miserable man in all New York and all fucking United States!" He loudly ranted out, tears still dwelling in his eyes.

"I don't… I don't understand." John admitted to the panting doctor. "Then why-?"

"It was the only scheme I had figured out to chase you from my hazardous life! The more you stuck with me, the more endangered your life was!" Laszlo explained.

"Fuck you, I do what I-"

"You do what you want? Is being friends with a jerk who worsen your alcoholism and belittle you what you want? _Mein_ _Gott_ , this is why we shouldn't hang out!" The pissed off doctor started to pace around. "This is why you shouldn't work on such a perilous case! You're always so… careless! Unwary! Trustful!... Kind…"

"What?" John surely had heard it wrong.

"You're too… kind, too innocent… to work on criminal cases… or hang out with me." Laszlo added, his back turned.

"Thank you Mom but you do not decide who I should be friends with." His friend sassed him.

The doctor swiftly turned back.

"Wha-? Moments ago, you wouldn't see me!"

"Yeah, but now I know this is what you want, I may have changed my mind." John smirked, two glimmering droplets leaking over his cheeks.

Laszlo suddenly displayed his largest grin and started to laugh again, quickly followed by the reporter's. The latter noticed too late his over-worried friend had come back closer to him.

"You just proved my point, idiot." The alienist smiled.

"Laszlo, what…?" John didn't have the time to finish his sentence.

He felt a pair of lips and a few spiky beard hairs crushing on his forehead along with a gloved hand caressing his left cheek. Did it last a few seconds or a few minutes? Longer? In any case, it was definitely too long to the confused illustrator.

"Julia didn't know how lucky she was." Laszlo thought a bit too out loud.

"Are you… are you sure you love me as a friend?" John arched an eyebrow.

"As my best friend. There's a subtle difference. I'm not interested in your masculine ethereal beauty if that's what you're thinking of."

"You will forgive me if the way you put it doesn't quite convince me."

"Ok, what do you want then? You want me to actually hate you? We both know you don't. Neither do I." The uncomfortable doctor admitted.

"I don't…! Ugh, sorry but a man I thought hating my guts no later than a few minutes ago suddenly kisses my forehead! You will agree that's quite confusing!"

"I had to convince you that you're not nothing for me. It's the only thing I could figure out in a lapse of only a few seconds." Laszlo justified as if he was lecturing his schoolboys.

"You…! Ugh! Granted." John sighed.

"Just like I thought your friendship for me was…" The alienist whispered to himself. "Again, I'm sorry. I'll try to be a better friend. I promise." He assured as he hugged his 'innocent' friend once more.

"Oh, do please shut up." John pleaded as he pressed his lips against a startled Laszlo's.

Yet, the latter didn't step back. On the contrary, he welcomed it by tenderly kissing back. To the illustrator's great surprise. His prudish friend was surprisingly good at it. His cheeks were burning hot. On the doctor's side, he loved John's soft lips. He could kiss him all day.

"Wait… this is too much, John…" He cut off.

"Maybe, yeah…" The reported panted.

"Have a good rest." Laszlo whispered before he headed for the door.

"Laszlo!" John called.

"Yes?" The alienist turned back, strangely hoping for something more.

"Seriously, what did you do to Sara?"

He loudly huffed out.

"I have… lost my temper. I shouldn't have. As a doctor, as a scientist, as Sara's friend, as _**your**_ friend… She doesn't even want to see me anymore. " He pitifully shrugged. "I doubt she still thinks of me as a friend… a colleague to the very least. It's a pity. I started to like her."

"So you _**were**_ jealous then. But not of me." John bitterly smiled.

"Hm. Yes." Laszlo snorted. "Maybe a little. But I do appreciate her. She's a bold and very skilled woman."

"To the extent of you trying to kick me out and replace me by her." The sassy illustrator joked.

"Well, I can't really do it now, can I?" The alienist regretted.

"Laszlo, I know you. You're a good man."

The praised doctor nervously grinned.

"I can't believe you've done something serious to her. But it is enough to make her, of all people, scared of you now. If you sincerely apologized to her, she'll forgive you; and maybe even like you, who knows?"

"Well I'll try then."

"But the kiss won't be necessary, I think." John laughed.

"I'll remember that." Laszlo smiled at him. "Take care of you, John." He took leave.

Kissing people you love was quite a pleasing thing. He should do it more often.


End file.
